You'll Always Be Mine
by Hetaliamaplefan
Summary: They had always been together. Even when forced apart, they would find a way back to each others side. It didn't matter how many years went by or what happened between them. USxfem!Canada
1. Pre1775

You'll Always Be Mine

Pre-1775

It started off innocently enough. "Matilda" had a nightmare, which woke up "Alfred" and together the two decided to go crawl into their parents' bed for the rest of the night. It was what they always did when one of them had a nightmare and it didn't matter how old they were.

They crept silently down the hall, hand-in-hand, until they reached the bedroom door. Alfred pressed up close to his sister as she reached to push open the door.

"M-Mattie, do you hear something strange?" He said in a strangely hushed voice. Normally he was so loud, no matter what time it was or where they were at. He squeaked in fright when a loud moan drifted from their parents' bedroom, clinging tightly to Matilda.

The northern colony winced and stopped pushing on the door. "Ow! Al, that hurts."

"S-sorry," Alfred said, loosening his grasp a little. "You hear it too, right? I-It sounds like a g-ghost!"

"I don't think that's what it is," Matilda said softly. "Actually, it sort of sounds like mum…"

The siblings exchanged glances and crowded around the door, which was open just enough for them to get a good look inside. They both remained silent as they watched their mother, England, sit up with a loud huff, shoving Papa France backwards against the pillows.

"Stop your damn teasing," she demanded with a hiss.

France chuckled, propping himself up with his elbows. "You complain that I rush it every other time, mon cheri. Forgive me if I decided to take your words into consideration."

England growled and rose up on her knees, glaring down at her lover with her acidic green eyes. "Shut up and fuck me, Francis."

"As you wish, mon amour."

France took hold of her hips, directing her down over his member before thrusting up into her. England gasped, throwing her head back at the sudden intrusion and closing her eyes. She barely managed to moan out his name as he repeated the motion several more times before growling and reversing their positions with a fluid motion.

"Much better," France murmured. He placed a kiss on England's forehead as he felt her legs wrap around his waist.

So caught up in their world of lust, neither of them heard a small gasp or the sound of footsteps as Alfred ran away from the door and back to the room he shared with his sister. Matilda hesitated, her eyes locked on the scene on the other side of the door. It was only when she heard England mumble a hurried "I love you, Francis," and saw the two exchange a kiss that she stumbled away from the door and followed after Alfred.

"America?" She softly questioned, seeing him huddled up under the blankets on his bed. "Alfred?" She tried a second time. She worried her lower lip as she quietly walked across the room and crawled up onto the bed next to him. "Al, what's wrong?"

"Don't!" Alfred yelped, flinching when he felt her hand on his shoulder. He wriggled away from her touch. "P-please, Mattie, go back to your bed."

Matilda didn't move. Instead she remained right where she was, staring at her brother's form with concern. "I'm not going anywhere," she told him. When he didn't say anything in response, she carefully lifting up an untucked corner of the blanket and wormed her way through so she could lay next to him.

"Mattie!" Alfred struggled to kick the blankets away but ultimately failed as Matilda wrapped her arms around his waist and held him in place. Not for the first time he cursed her hidden strength and the fact that he was the only person she used it against. "Canada, let go!"

"No," she said stubbornly. "Why are you acting so weird? Is it because we saw papa and England having sex?"

"No!"

"Then what, eh?" Matilda demanded.

"Because…"

Realizing that being assertive was no way to get her brother to talk, she softened her tone and scooted a little closer to him. "Please tell me. If you think I'll get mad at what you say, I promise I won't. I-I just want to understand what's bothering you. Please, Al."

Alfred trembled and Matilda wondered if he was trying not to cry. "B-Because I imagined us!"

_What?_ Matilda didn't realized she repeated her question aloud.

"I imagined us… doing that…" Alfred repeated in a quiet tone. "I-I'm sorry, Mattie. It just popped in my head and wouldn't go away! I know it's wrong but—"

"Al," Matilda interrupted. "I'm not mad. I promise. I'm a little surprised, but not angry." She sighed and closed her eyes, letting her forehead rest against his shoulder blade. "Is… is this the first time or…?"

Alfred hesitated. "N-no."

Matilda felt her heart began to beat faster. Heat blazed across her face like wildfire as her mind took a trip down a forbidden path, imagining what it would be like if they did do something like that. Al would be gentle, wouldn't he? Or else too nervous to do anything. She didn't think she'd be able to do it without him leading.

"Mattie?" Alfred asked, sounding as though he was on the verge of crying.

"Turn around," Matilda heard herself say. She let go of him so he could slowly do so and when they were face-to-face she saw that his cheeks were as red as she thought hers had to be. She smiled unsurely. "Hey."

Alfred didn't smile back. He couldn't even look her in the eye.

Matilda inhaled shakily, trying to draw up the courage to try something new. Something crazy and wrong, but she knew if she let the moment go by there wouldn't be a second chance. She didn't whisper his name or say anything else. She simply moved.

Their lips brushed once, a gentle caress which struck a single spark. Alfred inhaled sharply in surprise, finally meeting her violet eyes. There was a moment of hesitation and then Matilda tried again. Her eyes fluttered shut as their lips met again and Alfred began to respond, moving his lips against hers. Slowly he wrapped his arms around her supple body, drawing her even closer.

Matilda moaned in pleasure as heat began to build up in a place other than her face, wondering how something could feel so right but wrong at the same time. After all, they weren't _really_ brother and sister, they were just both adopted by England and happened to have similar features. Right?

"Mattie," Alfred breathed, pulling back to make sure she was okay. "Is this okay?"

Matilda leaned forward for a brief, sweet kiss. "Yes. Please don't stop."

Alfred cautiously trailed one hand down her back until he reached the bottom hem of her shirt. When he heard her breath hitch in anticipation, he took that as his go-ahead and slid his hand under the shirt, gently trailing his fingers over her soft skin.

"Kiss me," Matilda murmured.

Her request was granted as he eagerly pressed his lips back to hers. Something warm and wet pressed against her lips and she opened her mouth, welcoming in her brother's tongue. Her own moved against his as the kiss grew more and more heated. At some point Alfred maneuvered her onto her back so he could hover over her. His hand moved from her back to her chest, tentatively cupping one of her breasts and brushing his thumb over a nipple. Matilda moaned loudly into his mouth.

Alfred began trailing kisses down her neck until he reached the collar of her shirt. Matilda tossed back her head as he latched onto a sensitive area and began to suck.

"A-Al!" She gasped, arching against him. "Please."

"Tell me what you want, Mattie," Alfred murmured into her neck, kissing the sensitive red mark he'd left behind.

"Y-you. I want you. Please, Al," Matilda begged, unashamed by the words spilling out of her mouth. Nothing mattered at that moment but having more of the delicious feelings he inspired in her body. All she wanted was to feel him even closer to her; to have a moment with him where no one else mattered but him and her. A moment in which he wouldn't forget about her.

Alfred returned to her lips as he slip his hand back down her front, trailing tantalizingly over her breast and down her stomach until he got back to the hem of her shirt. He pushed it up and she quickly got the hint, sitting up so he could easily slide it over her head. The blankets fell away from them, leaving them open to the cooler air of their bedroom. The second he tossed her shirt aside, she did the same to his.

They paused, taking the chance to admire each other. Matilda cautiously ran her hands over her brother's chest, feeling the remains of baby fat and the blossoming muscles from hours of running around outside.

"You're so beautiful, Mattie," Alfred whispered, moving in for a chaste kiss. It quickly turned to something more as Matilda happily fell back onto the pillows, pulling him with her. Taking a risk, he lowered himself so he could grind his erection against her and rewarded her by deepening the kiss when she moaned in pleasure.

Matilda's hands found the tie to his pants. "Al…"

One more kiss was planted on her lips before Alfred sat back on his knees and helped her fingers untie his pants so he could easily slide them off. He breathed a sigh of relief when his erection was freed from its confines and therefore no longer pressing painfully against cloth. He groaned loudly when Matilda dared to run a finger over his length.

"God, Mattie…"

Unable to wait any longer, Alfred divested his sister of her final two articles of clothing. "Are you sure?" He asked her, wanting to make absolutely sure she was still okay.

Matilda nodded, staring up at him trustingly. There was only one thing she wanted to say to him at that moment and she leaned up for a kiss before telling him. "I love you, Al."

Alfred kissed her back, using it as a distraction while he lined up his member with her entrance. "Love you too, Mattie," he murmured before pushing in.

Matilda gasped in pain rather than pleasure, her body tensing up at the sudden intrusion. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she tossed her head back and forth, trying not to cry out in pain. She wouldn't ruin it for her brother.

Alfred closed his eyes as he sank further and further into her, trembling as he tried to hold back from slamming into her all at once. "God, Mattie, you're so tight."

After a few agonizing seconds he was fully sheathed within her, his body pressed against hers like a warm, heavy blanket. He kissed her neck and then pushed himself up, grinning stupidly. Then he saw her tears and all happiness vanished.

"Mattie? Are you…?" He felt horrible. He'd hurt his baby sister, the very last thing he wanted to do. Why did he have to bring up his dreams? He knew it would only end badly!

Matilda tried to smile reassuringly. "I-I'm okay, Al. Just g-give me a minute, eh?"

Alfred shook his head. "But I hurt you! We should stop. Hang on." He began to move, sliding out of her only to stop when he heard Matilda hiss in pain.

"Stop moving," she whispered. "Stay. Just stay still. L-let me…" She cautiously spread her legs a little more, wondering if it would help alleviate some of the pain. Thinking back to what her mom did, though the last thing she wanted to do was think about her parents having sex _ever _again, she lifted up her knees slightly. She took deep breaths, trying to relax her body. It felt like hours before the ache began to fade and she felt comfortable enough to shallowly thrust up against Alfred.

"Move," she whispered pleadingly.

"Are you sure? If it hurts I'll stop. We don't have to do this, Mattie. We can just go to sleep together like we used to," Alfred said. His eyes roved her face, searching for any uncertainty. He found none.

Matilda leaned up and kissed him, effectively washing away any of his misgivings. At the same time she rolled her hips, trying to coax her brother into moving. To her relief, he did, starting up an unsteady and slow rhythm that had her wincing in pain as much as it sent trills of pure pleasure through her body. She tried to match his movements, but found herself unable to.

Alfred stopped when he noticed she wasn't enjoying herself as much as he was. "Mattie, are you sure you're okay? You can tell me. I promise I won't get mad."

"I'm fine, really," Matilda promised. "Maybe… maybe we could try what we were doing before? Will you kiss me?"

Alfred eagerly attacked her lips, sliding his tongue past her defenses and slowly coaxing hers to battle against his. He smiled into the kiss when he felt Matilda melt against him, finally relaxing. His hands remained planted firmly on the bed, keeping him from smothering her against the sheets, though he longed to run his hands over her body again and feel the tremors as raw desire washed over her.

He drew her tongue into his mouth, giving her the chance to taste him like he tasted her. He chuckled when she lasted only a few seconds before retracting the muscle. "So cute," he whispered, not giving her but a few moments to catch her breath before he captured her lips in another deep kiss.

Matilda sighed happily and contentedly, feeling warmth begin to bubble up in her body once again. It pooled in her lower belly, growing warmer and warmer before it began to spread. She wanted—_needed_—more. The kisses and the feel of him on top of her were nice, but she feared if he kept on she would eventually explode from the feeling. She wrapped her arms around him and arched up against him, hoping her usually daft brother would get the hint.

He did.

She moaned lewdly as he slowly withdrew until only to tip of his member remained within her and then thrust quickly back into her. "Al!" She whispered, tossing back her head.

In response, Alfred repeated the action and bent his head to suckle at a new spot on his neck. He began moving faster, his thrusts a little harder as he picked up a steady rhythm. He changed his angle slightly, wanting to see if it would make a difference and was pleased when a strangled moan slipped past his sister's plush lips.

"You like that, Mattie?" He asked, deliberately hitting the same spot.

"Y-yes!" Matilda managed to gasp out. The heat burned brighter. She felt her control slipping away as she moaned wantonly, no longer completely aware of herself. All she knew was that overwhelming desire blazing through her body and the feel of Alfred moving in and out of her and all around her. It reached a crescendo and she gasped out his name as stars exploded behind her eyes.

She was dimly aware of Alfred shouting her name and a new kind of warmth filling her up before he stopped moving. His body covered hers as they both breathed heavily, basking in the afterglow. Alfred moved his head and sloppily kissed her.

"I love you, Mattie."

"I love you too, Al." She lethargically shifted beneath him. "Could you…?"

Alfred chuckled and kissed her one last time before pulling out of her completely and flopping over to lay next to her. "That was amazing."

Matilda made a sound of agreement as she rolled onto her side and curled against him. "It was… but next time maybe do a little research so you don't hurt me, eh?"

Alfred glanced at her in surprise and delight.

There would be a next time.


	2. Battle of York 1813

You'll Always Be Mine

April 1813 - Battle of York

Canada sighed as she ran a brush through her hair, staring absent-minded at her reflection in the mirror. The girl looking back at her was pathetic looking with her red-rimmed eyes and hair in desperate need of a wash, as well as a trim.

It'd been years since she was last with her brother. Not since he revolted against England, leaving behind those happy years they had together in exchange for a freedom which he'd won with a bloody war that ripped apart their family. He'd tried to coax her into joining him, into becoming his fourteenth colony, but she refused point-blank, demanded to know what he was trying to do.

"_What are you thinking?" _She had screamed at him when the war first began. _"You're such an idiot! Can't you see what you're doing to mum? To __**me**__? I hate you! I never want to see you again!"_

She never regretted anything more. Yelling at her brother, the one person who had always been there for her, almost broke her apart. But she stayed strong for her mum, who was reeling over the fact that she'd lost both her son and a lover who had insisted upon helping America win his freedom.

Canada sighed and put down her hair brush.

To make matters worse, her mum and brother were once again fighting. And that time she was stuck right in the middle of them. She would fight for England, of course. She didn't want to go from being a colony of one country to being a state of another. One day she would win her freedom by talking things out and using logic, not by fighting.

She heard the thump of her faithful polar bear jumping down from bed and hitting the hardwood floor, followed by the clack of his nails as he left the room. Canada sighed. "I don't blame you for leaving, Kumakichi. I'd leave too…"

Canada heard the creak of a floorboard and instinctively plastered a smile on her face as she turned around, expecting to see England standing in her doorway to have a little talk and maybe brush her hair. Except her mum wasn't there. Instead, the person in her doorway was someone she hadn't seen nor talked to in over thirty years.

In an instant, she remembered that England had gone away for the night and wouldn't be back until the next afternoon. She was alone in the house. It was just her and her unannounced visitor.

"Matilda," he said, greedily taking in her form.

Canada shied away and crossed her arms over her chest as if hoping to hide the fact that she'd filled out more in the years they'd been separated. She looked away from him, unable to meet his eyes without feeling as though she would break down into tears. "A-America," she said, the name sounding almost foreign on her lips.

She hated it.

Even as she heard him walk steadily across the room towards her, she refused to look at him.

"Matilda," he repeated her name softly as he reached out and stroked her face, trying to get her to look at him. He frowned when his efforts didn't pay off. It didn't matter anywhere. He was there for one reason only and he wouldn't leave until he accomplished what he set out to do. He could only hope England wouldn't return early and that his boss wouldn't find out what he was doing.

It was just between him and his sister, no one else.

America stepped closer to her. Close enough to feel the enticing warmth emanate from her body. Close enough to smell the sweet scent of the perfume she wore. Or perhaps it was just the sweetness of maple syrup with naturally encompassed her. He nearly moaned as his pants began to tighten from something so simple. How he longed to be buried in her warmth once again, to feel her move fluidly against him and hear her scream his name as they reached climax. Just the thought of their past together was enough to make him mad with want.

He let his arms encircle her waist and still got no reaction, not even a whisper of complaint. Deciding that it was okay to continue so long as she didn't protest, he pulled her flush against him, purposefully grinding his hardening cock against her. He bowed his head and nibbled at her ear, finally earning a small mewl from Canada. America chuckled and kissed the patch of sensitive skin just behind and under her ear.

"Mattie, I want you," he whispered, punctuating his words with a brief nip and a grope to her ample ass, which wrought a strangled gasp from her lips. Feeling confident, he continued to speak. "I want to push you down on that bed of yours and make you feel things no one but me can make you feel. I want to push inside of you, feel you all around me. Let me fill you, Mattie. How long has it been?"

Canada found herself unable to answer the moment she turned her head to look at him. In that moment, America swooped down and captured her lips in a mind-numbing kiss that left her barely able to stand. Adding to her dilemma were those damnably talented hands which were already sliding under her shirt to map out familiar-yet-unfamiliar territory and flicking away buttons until her clothing slid off of her body with ease.

America struggled for a moment with his own pants, but once they were gone he lifted his sister off of the ground. Canada automatically wrapped her legs around his waist to hold on better, moaning when she felt his hard length press up against her belly, already leaking pre-cum. Her back hit the bed sooner than she expected to and she barely had a chance to say anything before America was on top of her, straddling her as he eagerly leaned down and pressed his lips back against hers.

She broke away from him with a sharp gasp when a finger prodded at her entrance, sliding inside with ease. "Alfred!"

Alfred smiled, pleased to have broken her silence. Another finger joined the first and he began moving them both, stretching her so she could accommodate him without pain. He'd learned a lot since their first time, mostly thanks to books he'd snuck from France's office and partly from extremely awkward and embarrassing talks with the other nation. It was worth it though, to watch Matilda writhe in pleasure beneath him and hear her soft mewls and begging.

Not one to be left out, Matilda ran her hands over his abdomen, feeling the powerful muscles flex under her fingertips. Her fingers skimmed up over his pectorals until her arms were looped around his neck, giving her the leverage to pull herself forward a little and place butterfly kisses all over his chest and neck.

The brief touches would drive him to madness if he didn't do something soon. One more finger went into her and he felt her tense. He whispered her name softly and drew her into a kiss, his tongue prodding at her lips to ask for entrance. She allowed it, drawing his tongue into her mouth and gently closing her mouth around it to suck for a moment before letting it go. Alfred moaned loudly before removing his fingers from her with an audible noise.

Matilda didn't have time to miss the feeling of having his fingers wiggle inside of her, pressing against her inner walls and brushing up against her sweet spot. She felt his member press up against her entrance and met his eyes.

"Make me yours again," she whispered so softly that Alfred thought he may have imagined it.

Alfred kissed her. "You'll always be mine, Mattie," he told her as he slowly slid into her. Down he sank until he was buried to the hilt. Her walls clenched around him and he waited until she began to squirm before pulling out and slamming back into her, hitting her sweet spot on the first try.

Matilda's moan began as a yell as he hit the spot with every thrust, pushing harder and moving faster every time. Her blunt nails scratched his back as she tried to hang on and keep up with him, but that only spurred him on.

Heat built up around them, growing and fluctuating with every minute that passed. Matilda knew they were getting close to the end when Alfred lost the rhythm he set in the beginning and the heat in her belly tightened to the point she couldn't take it anymore.

Much like their first time, they didn't last long. Matilda came first, tossing her head back with a yell, and Alfred followed suit several seconds later, unable to continue with her clenching so tightly around his cock. He thrust into her one last time and came when he was still buried deep within her.

He panted as he kissed her on the forehead. Matilda stared up at him with lidded eyes, feeling weak with euphoria. She kissed him back when he dipped down for a final one, her eyes closing. She breathed softly and fell asleep with a smile.

"I'm sorry, Matilda," Alfred murmured as he crawled out of bed and pulled the blankets over her. He ran a hand through her hair soothingly, debating on whether or not he wanted to kiss her again before deciding it would be for the best if he didn't. He dressed quickly and left her house.

* * *

><p>Matilda awoke feeling as though her chest was on fire. She sat up with a scream, clutching at her heart as the pain grew fiercer in intensity. Tears sprang to her eyes. Sobs wracked her body as she tried to will away the throbbing ache, but it only began to spread until she could only lay there on her bed, unable to speak or scream. Tears flowed down her cheeks for more than just the pain of an attack on her land.<p>

Alfred wasn't there.

He wasn't there to help her. He wasn't there to protect her.

A chocked sob worked it's way up her throat just as England threw open the door and ran into the room, her hair flying all over the place and her green eyes wide with fear. She took one look at her daughter and gathered her in her arms, rocking her back and forth and whispering soothing words.

Matilda cried for the rest of the day.

* * *

><p>End chapter<p>

* * *

><p>Quick question, would anyone be too bothered if I added in a few provinces and states? They would only be background characters for Mattie and Al to interact with. If anyone has a problem with it, I won't do it.<p> 


	3. Burning of Washington 1814

You'll Always Be Mine

August 1814 - Burning of Washington

America was pleased with the way the war was going. Once again he was winning against England, proving to the world that he was a strong nation and could stand on his own. In his eyes, it was only a matter of time before he kicked England completely out of North America and got independence for her sister.

He entered his room in good spirits, pulling off his jacket even before he shut the door. He dropped it to the floor, figuring he could always pick it up in the morning. His pants and shirt quickly joined the jacket before he ran and jumped onto his bed like an overgrown child. He sighed happily into the soft material and closed his eyes.

America eagerly thought of the future, of having Canada by his side for the rest of their lives. He would make her happier than England ever could. Plus, if she wanted to be her own country and not just a colony or state, he'd listen to her. Unlike England, he wouldn't make her fight him to win her independence.

He could see her clearly in his mind's eye. His sister, standing in a field with her long golden hair free to blow in a spring breeze, curling gently around her face and cascading over her shoulders and breasts. A dress. She would wear a dress. Something simple with no sleeves so the sun could gently kiss the pale skin of her neck, arms, and shoulders. Something he could easily slide off of her body.

One hand trailed down his body, slipping under his underwear to firmly grasp his cock.

He imagined laying her down in that field, his jacket providing a soft place for her to lay. She smiled at him, her warm violet eyes shimmering with love and kindness as she welcomed him to crawl over her. They kissed, their tongues tangling together as she reached down and gently guided him into her.

"M-Mattie," he gasped, slowly working his hand up and down, pausing now and then to rub his thumb over the head of his cock. "Oh, Matilda!"

America didn't hear the gentle creak of his door opening nor the quiet snap as it was shut. He didn't hear the soft footsteps treading across the floor. He was still lost in his perfect daydream as he was rolled over onto his back, as a weight settled over his legs, as his hand was removed from his pulsing erection to a place over his head.

Only when a giggle, light and airy, escaped the lips of his visitor and a sweet voice filled his ears did he open his eyes.

"Do you want me, Alfred?"

America gasped and opened his eyes and sky blue met endless periwinkle. She was there, hovering overtop of him like a nude goddess, her hair falling around them like a golden curtain. He tried to move his hands to touch her, but found they were bound to his headboard by some kind of leather cord. He tugged experimentally at them and earned a tap on the forehead for his actions.

"Answer the question, Alfred," she whispered leaning down until their noses barely brushed. "Do you want me?"

Was it a dream, he wondered. It had to be. Surely his beautiful sister wasn't there in his room saying such things. Something brushed over the tip of his cock and it throbbed with need. He moaned, arching up against her, aching for more contact. She tsk'd and pushed down his hips each time he tried.

"I want you!" He said, closing his eyes. "I want you. I want you. Please, Mattie."

She hummed and settled her lower body on his thighs. He quivered beneath her. It was contact, but not the kind he wanted. Not the kind he needed.

"Mattie, please," Alfred tried begging. "I-I need you."

He felt Matilda's weight lift off of him and nearly panicked, thinking he'd said the wrong thing. He was about to try and rip through the cord preventing him from moving his arms when he felt something warm and tight suddenly surround his member. He tossed his head back with a guttural moan when he felt her walls clench around him and she lifted up before sinking down even further than before. Not a sound of pain slipped past her lips. That aroused Alfred more than anything else, the thought of her stretching herself in preparation, pleasuring herself to the though of him.

Alfred rolled his hips against hers and she let him. Together they worked up a familiar rhythm. The only sound in the room was that of their heavy breathing, of skin against skin, of Alfred's loud moans and Matilda's quiet mewls when Al angled himself just right, determined to get her to cum as soon as him.

"I'm close, Mattie," Alfred panted.

"My name," Matilda moaned in response. "Say my name. My full name."

"M-Matilda! Matilda Williams!"

She smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes, and she picked up the pace. Alfred lost himself to pleasure, wanting to pull her down for a kiss but knowing he could do nothing of the sort until she wanted him to. It would be so easy to pull free of the cord binding him, but he wouldn't.

Matilda came first. Alfred knew when the small whimper slipped past her lips as she came down a little harder before, resting her weight on his lower body. He gave her a few seconds before rolling his hips, needing just a little more friction to come to completion. She breathed heavily and began sliding up and he was just about to thank her when he realized she had slid completely off of him.

"Mattie…" His words fell away when she slid off of the bed and looked at him with such cold eyes that he almost swore he was looking at England and not his sister. (Which was disturbing, because he _really_ didn't want to think about his ex-parent in any sexual way ever.)

"Goodbye, America," she said as she left the room, not looking back once.

Alfred struggled against the bindings, wanting-_needing_ to go after her, to find out what was wrong. They were tight. So tight he had no room to wiggle his wrists even a little. There was no give in the cord. But if ripping down his headboard was what it took to go after her, he would gladly do it.

He tugged harder, desperately. The bed creaked under his ministrations. A pain like a licking flame built up in his chest, but he ignored it. The intense heat attacked his heart, making it difficult to breath and he faltered just as it turned to an icy heat that reduced his vision to blackness.

America blacked out before he could free himself.

* * *

><p>Outside of America's house, Canada met up with a single figure. She wearily met the blue-green eyes of a teenager not much younger than herself, whose wavy blond hair closely resembled that of France's.<p>

"Quebec," she murmured, bowing her head. "I… Thanks."

He nodded, looking around wearily. "Come. I left Ontario with Nova Scotia. He's in safe hands, but I want to get out of here before New York discovers us."

Too tired to question how he knew one of America's states had a personification, let alone how he'd come to meet said state, she let him wrap and arm around her shoulder and steer her in the direction of home.

All she wanted was to take little Ontario in her arms, her sweet little boy with dazzling blue eyes just like his fathers and hair the shade of golden wheat. She'd been gone for hours. She was sure he was hungry. Nova Scotia could handle many things, but taking care of the boy for extended periods of time was not one of them. Canada closed her eyes, allowing Quebec to guide the way. Once Ontario was fed and cleaned and drifting off to sleep in her arms she would finally get to fall into the world of sleep herself.


	4. February 1815

Sorry for the wait, I got caught up in the fun of Hetaween.

More provinces in this chapter!

**You'll Always Be Mine**

_February 1815_

England was furious. No, she was beyond furious. For the first time in his life, it made America nervous. He'd never seen her like that before, not even when he first made his claim for independence. Not when he helped to dump her precious tea into the Boston harbor. Not even when he boldly announced the help France had given him during the war.

When she dragged him away from their bosses and shoved him up against the wall in an empty room, he felt it was only natural that he was downright terrified of the first parental figure in his life.

"How dare you?" England hissed, her eyes blazing with a ferocity he never could have imagined. She looked as perfect as ever, with her smooth hair separated in pigtails, tied up with blue ribbons to match the dress she wore.

"How dare I what, _mom?_" He asked mockingly and oh how he may as well just sign away his life for his words. Why did he always have to say the stupidest things when he was in trouble?

England growled, her grip tightening around his collar, around his neck. "You involved your sister in this damn war."

"It's war and she took your side. I wasn't going to just do nothing. I did what was necessary to win." A small pang struck his heart at the thought of his innocent sister, but he quickly shoved it away. It wasn't his fault.

"Like hell you did!" England screamed, pulling him forward slightly so she could slam him harder against the wall. "Not only did you attack her land, burn down one of her cities, all in the damn of your damned freedom, you had your way with her, got her pregnant, and _then_ proceeded to burn down York! How could you do that to her? She's your _sister_, for God's sake! What the hell is wrong with you?"

America reached up and tightly gripped her small hand with his larger one. "What I do with Matilda is no one's business but mine and hers. Not. Yours."

England wasn't about to back down. "Stay away from Canada. Stay away from Matilda. If I _ever_ catch you so much as looking at her again, I will end you, boy. Don't think I won't. I am Great Britain, the most powerful country in the world, and I will always have the strength to put you in your place." She released him and left, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

They were dangerous thoughts. Thoughts he should have dismissed the moment they entered his mind. But he didn't and instead allowed them to grow louder and louder until he couldn't ignore them any longer. He had to act.

He didn't have to wait very long before England left Canada to make a trip overseas to her own country. Even better, he coerced New York and some of the other northern states into watching the border and keeping track of what was going on in his sister's lands so that he would know the exact time to make a little trip to visit her.

Each of them refused to cross the border with him. They were too busy with their own affairs to worry about what their nation wanted with the colony to the north.

He waited outside her house until night fell. He watched as she happily crooned over a baby while a handsome young man sat at her kitchen table and chuckled over the spectacle she made of herself. He fought off burning jealousy as she allowed the stranger to touch her so comfortingly, so familiarly. He ignored the part of his mind that noticed it was more like a gesture between close friends or perhaps family.

America waited more patiently than he ever had before in his life. At long last the strange young man took the baby from her arms and left the room, most likely to go upstairs, leaving Canada alone to straighten up the kitchen.

Making his move, he hurried through the thick snow to the back door, which he knew she always left unlocked. He'd cautioned her about it several times in the past, but for the first time felt thankful for her habit. He snuck inside, moving quietly until he was in the doorway of the kitchen. For a moment, he was content to watch her work.

His Matilda was so beautiful. He would always think that, no matter what happened between them. Even when she tied him to his bed and left him there as English and Canadian forces burned down the White House, he still thought she was the most beautiful thing in the world. (Admittedly, he was quite angry about it. She could have been a bit nicer about the whole affair.)

Alfred strode forward without warning, pulling his sister against him as she began to turn, a smile on her enticing lips. He bent down and covered up her shriek of fright with a kiss, slipping his tongue into her open mouth and soothingly running his fingers up and down her spine until he felt her begin to relax.

Their lips separated as he sighed and rested his forehead against hers. "I'm sorry, Matilda. For everything."

Matilda stared up at him, her eyes wide. Her body trembled a little, though Alfred wouldn't tell what it was from. To his relief, she didn't move. She didn't try to twist out of his arms or move away from him. She simply looked at him, her eyes conveying every emotion she was feeling.

Fear. Longing. Confusion.

"Mum's going to kill you if she knows you're here," she whispered at long last.

Alfred offered up a half smirk, not feeling nearly as confident as he did when he was sitting outside of her house. "England's not around. She'll never know I was here."

Matilda fell silent again, lowering her gaze to the floor. "…why are you here?"

"To apologize," Alfred said, struggling a little to remember everything he wanted to say. "I should've warned you about… you know. Or stayed. Or done anything else instead of what I did. I also want to ask you about some things England said to me."

Matilda tensed in his arms and he resumed stroking her lower back, trying to get her to relax again. "W-what did she s-say?"

Alfred lowered his voice to a whisper. "She said I got you pregnant. Is that… Is it true? Did I…? Do we…?"

"A boy…" Matilda murmured with a sniffle. "He looks like you. That's how England knew. I didn't tell her… I could never tell her…"

"About us?"

Matilda nodded.

Silence encompassed them as they continued to stand there. Matilda moved a little closer to him, seeking his warmth and comforting presence. She wrapped her arms around him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. "…is there still an 'us'?" She asked thickly, trying her very best not to cry.

Alfred tightened his arms around her and kissed her forehead. "Of course there is. If you want there to be. If not… I'll always be your brother. No matter what."

Matilda pulled back a little so she could look up at him. "I'm sorry too. About what I did to you. I was so angry and frustrated with everything going on that I wasn't thinking straight. Do you forgive me?"

"Of course! Though if you want, I can think of a few ways for us to make up."

Matilda couldn't help but giggle nervously. However, she didn't move away from him. If anything, she swayed a little closer, fluttering her eyelashes a little. "Alfred…"

"Mattie…"

They moved at the same time, Alfred dipping his head and Matilda raising on tiptoe to meet him halfway. Their lips met, gently moving together in a slow, sensual kiss. When they separated it was with some reluctance, but both needed to breathe to alleviate the burning in their lungs.

"Bedroom?" Matilda suggested.

"Yes please."

* * *

><p>He rocked into her, slowly but firmly, lovingly caressing her body and making sure she felt just as good as he did. The light touches she gave him in return spurred him on. He almost considered speeding up, to pull screams of pleasure from Matilda's lips, to ravish her so thoroughly that she wouldn't be able to move or speak the next day. But that wasn't what he wanted to do that night. He wanted to take things slow and easy, make her feel good and prove his love to her.<p>

Matilda moaned wantonly, her breathing heavy and warm on his ear. "Al…! Please, harder!"

Alfred brought their lips together in a searing kiss. "Not tonight, Mattie," he whispered. "Let me make love to you tonight."

His sister gasped, his words sending ripples of warmth through her body, arousing her far more than any of their fast-paced encounters of the past. She locked eyes with him as she slowly moved against him, no longer trying to hurry him. "I love you, Al," she breathed. "So, so much."

"I love you, Matilda."

They moved as one, the friction building up the ever-present heat between them, coiling tightly until it finally snapped. Alfred came as he gave one last thrust deep inside of her, crying out as he did so. Matilda continued moving, rolling her hips against his until he pulled out and thrust back in, making sure to hit that sweet bundle of nerves inside of her until she whimpered and clenched tightly around him, pulling him back inside.

They lay tangled in each others arms, panting heavily. Matilda welcomed his weight on top of her, pressing her down into the mattress. It felt so good to have him near her again. They'd been apart for far too long.

"Matilda, can I make you mine again?" Alfred asked quietly.

She smiled at him so sweetly that he had to remind himself to breathe. "I never stopped being yours." She felt his cock twitch inside of her as it began to swell and she marveled at her brother's stamina. "This time," she murmured, kissing his lips softly. "Don't hold back."

Alfred gladly took her words into consideration as he began to move. When he spilled inside of her for the second time that night, making sure she came to completion as well, he wondered what their time together would result in.

He pulled out of Matilda and lay down beside her, gathering her into his arms. She sighed in contentment and snuggled closer, already drifting off to sleep. Alfred kissed her forehead, earning a sleepily mumbled "I love you".

"I love you too, sis," he replied, brushing her hair away from her face. He watched her fall asleep, as her breathing evened out and her eyelids began to flutter as she entered the realm of dreams. His eyes fell to what he could see of her belly and he began to wonder again.

If their last time together had resulted in a child, what of their time that night?

* * *

><p>When Alfred awoke, he was alone in the bed. With the nondescript walls and sheets, he almost thought he was back home and that he'd dreamt up the entire encounter. He believed that up until he sat up and found he wasn't as alone in the room as he initially thought.<p>

Sitting in a chair by the door was the blond teenager he saw through the kitchen window the night before. He was carefully carving a block of wood with a sharp knife in what Alfred felt to be a threatening manner, though the boy hadn't looked over at him yet.

He heard the strike of a match before the acrid scent of fire filled his nostrils. He slowly looked to his left, where he found a red-haired man lighting up a cigarette by the partially open window. He watched the man take a drag and then blow out the smoke in a long stream.

The door clicked open and a third boy who had lighter blond hair and green eyes entered the room, offering an apology and a glass of wine to the teen by the door. Alfred fidgeted, wondering who they were and what they wanted.

"So, I hear you're the one fucking around with our sister," spoke up the redhead by the window. His accent was decidedly Scottish-sounding in nature. "Aunt Alice warned us about you. She said that we have every right to kill you if you come near Matilda again."

The teen near the door chuckled. "Lucky for you, none of us are particularly fond of listening to the dear old hag, so you're safe. For now."

_Oh god,_ Alfred thought. _He's French. One's Scottish, one's French, and the other… _He glanced unsurely at the youngest of the three, unsure of exactly what he was.

"We can't protect you from mum when she's around, just when she's gone." The third boy spoke slowly and Alfred had a hard time placing his accent. He supposed it was more like Matilda's than anything and so labeled him "the Canadian" of the trio.

"And of course, if you ever hurt her again, we won't hesitate to hurt you right back," said the Scottish one cheerily, flicking his cigarette ashes out the window. "We may not be powerful enough to bring down a nation like you, but we're tough enough to kick your ass. Don't think we won't." He chuckled at the frightened look on Alfred's face. "Well, I reckon we're pretty good at this protective brothers thing, eh? Not bad, boys."

"Who… who _are_ you?" Alfred asked.

"Nova Scotia!" Said the Scottish one. "Son of Scotland, of course."

The teen by the door cleared his throat. "I'm Quebec. France's son."

"New Brunswick," spoke up the third, offering no information on the status of his parents. "We're Matilda's brothers."

Alfred almost replied that he was too, but decided it wasn't the most appropriate thing to say in the situation he was in. "So, uh… Fuck, this is weird."

"You don't say," Nova Scotia replied, taking one final drag from his cigarette before damping it out in one of Matilda's potted plants. "About as weird as you knocking up your own sister. Gotta say, you're lucky Ontario turned out to be one cute little baby."

Unsure of exactly how to respond to that, Alfred ran a hand through his mussed up hair, trying to tame it into some semblance of tidy. In the end, all he could come up with was: "We're not really siblings…"

"Luckily," Quebec said. "If England had given birth to you two, we'd have some serious problems. And I'd be related to you." He wrinkled his nose. "Ew. I don't want to be related to anything English."

Nova Scotia chuckled. "Odds are, you're at least half."

"Shut up, you stupid Scotch."

The redhead bristled and hopped off the window ledge, striding over to the Frenchman. He smacked the knife, wine glass, and wooden block from his hands before lifting him by the collar of his shirt, his green eyes blazing. "Shut up you wine guzzling freak! You're just pissed because your dad dumped you here without so much as a word, whereas mine continues to visit and tell me he loves me!"

Quebec fought back, violently head butting his younger brother. The two tumbled to the floor while New Brunswick and Alfred looked on. Buttons clattered to the floor as Nova Scotia yanked open Quebec's shirt, which soon went flying through the air. It was quickly joined by Nova Scotia's jacket and a sock.

It was only when New Brunswick sighed, stood up, and began removing his clothes that Alfred decided he'd had enough of his sister's "brothers" (God, that was a weird thought). He kept the bed sheets wrapped around his waist as he slid out of the bed and began hunting down his own clothes, doing his best to not look at any of the Canadians as he pulled on his pants. He stopped only to grab his shirt, coat, and shoes before slipping out the door.

He hurried down the hall as the curses in French died away to be replaced by moans. Alfred quickly decided the kitchen was the place he wanted to be. It was there he found his sister standing near the table, rocking a bundle of blue and singing soothingly. An empty baby bottle was on the table.

Matilda looked up when he came in, her violet eyes widening slightly. Her singing and swaying stopped. "You're awake…"

Alfred nodded, his eyes on the bundle of blue. _Could it be…?_

Matilda worried her lower lip. When a small whimper came from within the soft blankets, she slowly began swaying back and forth again, her eyes drawn to the small form in her arms.

"Mattie, is that…?" Alfred hesitated, unsure how his interest would be taken. He decided it didn't matter. He wasn't leaving without at least seeing the small being he and Matilda created together. "Can I see?"

She blinked in surprise. "Y-you want to?"

Alfred frowned. Was it really that surprising that he wanted to see his own son? Did his sister really not know him that well? Remembering just how long it had been since they last actually talked, he decided that she had every reason to be worried. He softened his features and walked over to her, kissing her on the cheek and making sure to meet her eyes. "Of course I want to. He's our son. Yours and mine. Though I suppose he's a bit more yours than mine, being Canadian and all."

Matilda relaxed slightly at his words and he wondered if it wasn't fear that he would take their son away to America that was the cause of her worry. She smiled and rearranged the bundle in her arms, turning the young child so Alfred could get a better look.

"Al, I'd like you to meet our son, Ontario."

Blue eyes. That was the first thing that Alfred noticed. Their baby had his clear blue eyes; eyes the shade of a cloudless sky. His hair was closer to the shade of blonde Matilda had, but a little lighter. He supposed it would darken as the colony got older.

Alfred beamed. "He's so cute! It's only natural, with you and me as his parents!"

Matilda giggled and so did Ontario, who was happy just because his momma was. She leaned against Alfred, her whole body relaxing as her fear was vanquished by his words. "He's already a troublemaker and has super strength too. Just like his papa. Just last week he broke part of his crib when he was trying to escape."

"Awesome! I hope he gives England hell too."

"He does," Matilda admitted, trying not to smile.

Alfred couldn't remember a time when he'd been happier than in that moment, standing in the kitchen with the only one he'd ever truly loved and his young son. Nothing could possibly ruin the moment.

"_GOD DAMMIT, QUEBEC!"_

Except for maybe that.

* * *

><p>End chapter<p>

* * *

><p>Quick AN on the Canadian colonies.<p>

Quebec - France's son, mother unknown. The running joke is that his mother is from Great Britain, which Quebec, of course, hates.

Nova Scotia - Scotland's son. His mother is probably also Scottish. Or Canadian. Or British. He knows, but he won't tell anyone else.

New Brunswick - Found by Canada. Parents unknown.

Ontario - Canada and America's son.


	5. 1836

**You'll Always Be Mine**

1836

Alfred watched her sleep. He watched her breasts rise and fall as she breathed. He watched her eyelids flutter gently as she walked in the realm of dreams. His eyes landed on her full lips and he licked his own, wanting to kiss her but not wanting to wake her up. He smiled.

"You're perfect, Mattie," he whispered quietly. "And I don't even think you realize just how beautiful you are. Just how much I love you." His eyes trailed down past her breasts and rested on her swelled belly. "Or maybe you do." Alfred couldn't resist reaching out and laying his hand on her belly. As if sensing his presence, the life inside kicked at his hand. His smile broadened.

Matilda breathed in deeply, a soft sigh slipping past her lips as she found herself drawn out of sleep. She slowly blinked open amethyst eyes and looked to her right, staring sleepily at Alfred. "Hey…"

"Sorry I woke you," Alfred apologized, leaning in for a good morning kiss.

Matilda sleepily but happily responded, wishing he'd move a little closer to her. Her hope was soon answered as he scooted over, pressing his body against hers. She felt his cock begin to stir against her leg and quickly pulled back. "A-Al, wait. I need to pee."

Alfred blinked owlishly. "Ah. Well that's a mood killer. The kiddo kicking at your bladder again?"

"Something like that," Matilda replied. "Help me up?"

Alfred slid out of bed and made his way over to his sister, carefully supporting her as she got up. He made sure she would be able to stand on her own before rushing over to retrieve her nightdress and help her put it on. His own clothes were next. He wasn't about to let Matilda walk around on her own, not with how far along she was, but he wasn't about to walk around naked either. Not after the last time he did so and Quebec took that as an excuse to also run around in the nude, trying to strip everyone else. Much to America's mortification, 10-year-old Ontario had also joined in, thinking it was a game. (Though really, it didn't take much to get the boy to strip back then. Alfred was so glad that phase was over.)

Together they made their way from the room, Alfred making sure to support his beloved as they slowly walked down the stairs. They ran into New Brunswick along the way, but the colony simply smiled and moved aside so they could pass by without trouble.

"I'd avoid the kitchen," he advised. "Quebec and Ontario are arguing. Nova Scotia said he was going to get them to stop, but I get the feeling he's just standing there watching."

"We'll take care of that when we come back in," Matilda said, smiling at her younger brother. "Thanks."

New Brunswick nodded. "Don't tire yourself out, sis."

Alfred and Matilda carried on their way, taking the front door and walking around to the backyard inside of going through the chaos in the kitchen. Once they reached the outhouse, Alfred let her go inside while he elected to relieve himself in the bushes on the outskirts of the property. Even from where he was outside, he could hear the shouting match escalating in the kitchen.

A few minutes passed and then Matilda emerged from the outhouse. Her eyes automatically settled on the house and her lips pressed into a frown. "They need to learn to get along like they used to. I'm sick of all the fighting lately."

Alfred moved to her side, offering his arm to escort her across the yard. "Well lets go stop them."

Matilda smiled and accepted his arm.

* * *

><p>New Brunswick looked up when they walked inside, his green eyes wide and fearful. "Can "<p>

_Smack._

His head jerked to the side from the force of the blow, his words stopped before he even got the chance to finish one. England spun on her heel, her eyes glowing with rage as she turned her attention on the brother-sister pair. Behind her, the young Canadian colonies stood with their heads bowed, thoroughly chastised.

Alfred stepped protectively in front of Matilda, using his body as a shield.

"I warned you," England hissed, raising her hand to point at the nation who was once her colony. "I told you I would make you regret it if you _ever_ came near her again. This is a lesson I am all too happy to teach you."

Was it just Al, or was England literally glowing?

That was the last thought that went through the American's mind before he blacked out with the sound of Matilda's startled gasp ringing in his ears.

* * *

><p>He hadn't seen her in two months.<p>

Worse, every time he tried to cross the border and visit her, he found himself blacking out and waking up back at home in his bed with one of the states in the kitchen either ready to scold him (Virginia) or congratulate him on infuriating England so well (Massachusetts).

Alfred rolled over and grumbled unintelligibly into his pillow, wanting nothing more than to spend the entire day in his bed, hiding from the world. He knew he should get up and go make sure Georgia and Tennessee weren't destroying his house with a brawl or stop Louisiana and Florida from cooking extremely weird foods in his kitchen.

There came a shout and the sound of shattering glass and America strongly considered getting up just so he could kick all of them out of his house. Then again, that would involve moving.

He heard his door squeak open and turned his head to see Texas peering back at him with a uncharacteristically sheepish grin.

"We're all goin' out for a few hours to, uh, do some stuff," he said with a vague hand gesture. "So you get this place all to your lonesome for a while. Just don't go in the kitchen. Louisiana made something weird." He paused a moment. "You might wanna get up. You've got a guest."

"He can stay there, I don't mind."

Alfred sat up.

Texas moved to the side, allowing the one person Alfred wanted to see the most walk into the room. The state left without another word, leaving the two alone.

Matilda fidgeted for a moment and then sprinted to the bed, leaping onto it and crawling into her brother's arms as tears slowly made their way from the corners of her eyes and down her cheeks. "I missed you," she whispered into his shirt, clinging tightly to him. She felt his arms wrap around her, pulling her flush against him as she moved to straddle his thighs, allowing for closer contact.

"You're here," Alfred said softly, his voice full of wonder and joy. His body quivered as he quietly rejoiced at being able to hold her close once more. He sought out her lips, lightly brushing his own against them once, twice, and then pressing them more firmly together as if to confirm she really was there in his room. "You're here," he murmured again between kisses. "I can't how? How are… you here?"

Matilda pulled back, her lips tingling pleasantly, her face flushed with color, wanting nothing more than to continue with what they were doing. She almost leaned back in, but then remembered the reason she was there. With a sigh, she removed his arms from around her waist and moved off of him.

"Matilda…?" Alfred questioned.

She hesitated a moment. "We have another son."

A smile slowly spread across the American's face. "A boy? Another little boy? What's he look like? Is he Canadian too or "

"American," Matilda softly interrupted. "England confirmed it. His hair is dark, a little darker than yours and kind of curly."

"And his eyes?" Alfred asked eagerly.

"Mine."

"Yours," Alfred breathed happily, leaning forward to kiss her again. Confusion alit his eyes when she turned her head so his lips brushed her cheek. "Mattie? What's wrong?"

Matilda avoided looking at him entirely, knowing if she did she wouldn't be able to say what she needed to say. Because she needed to say it, not for England or anyone else, but for herself. It was something that had been nagging at the back of her mind for many years, growing louder and louder until it resembled a dull roar which plagued her dreams and nightmares.

Tightly gripping the bed sheets with her hands, Matilda began to speak.

"I can't see you anymore."

For a moment, Alfred swore his heart stopped beating. But then it began again, echoing loudly in his ears as he tried to process what she meant by that. She- she didn't really mean it, did she? Maybe England was just making her say it. He wouldn't put it past the other nation. It sounded exactly like something she would do.

Matilda already knew what road his mind was headed down before he could even open his mouth and say anything. "This is my decision, Al. I can't _We_ can't keep doing this. Not so long as I am still a colony." She took a deep breath, steeling her resolve, and looked him in the eyes. "You're a nation, Al. A young one, but you're gaining power every day. The day you'll be able to rival the other nations in strength is approaching quickly. But I'm still a colony and winning my independence peacefully is going to take a while. I can't hope to be a good match for you like this."

"That's not true!" Alfred protested, taking advantage of her pause. He grasped her shoulders, looking at her pleadingly. "Please stay with me Mattie! I love you!"

Matilda shook her head with a sad smile. "I know and I love you too. But I can't be with you like this. That's why I agreed to go overseas with England for a while. Quebec and the others can take care of things back here for me while I'm away."

Alfred could feel his whole world crashing down on him. Matilda, his most beloved person, was leaving him. With her in England's country, he wouldn't be able to see nor talk to her, that much he was sure of.

"One day I'll be a nation too," Matilda murmured, lowering her gaze. "Then we can be together again, if you still want."

Alfred took advantage of her lowered guard, swiftly pulling her close and mashing their lips together, quickly and easily dominating the kiss. His tongue slipped into her mouth, searching out every crevice and coaxing her tongue to move against his before pulling back. He pressed their foreheads together, staring into her eyes. "I will always want you, Mattie," he said seriously. "I will always love you."

"And I'll always love you," Matilda replied.

* * *

><p>Alfred watched her leave from his bedroom window. Watched as Canada walked over to England, who quickly escorted her away as if afraid he would march out of the house and demand that she not leave.<p>

"Just this once, I'll be patient," Alfred whispered to himself. "And I'll wait for you, Mattie. Come back to me a proud nation."

He stayed there at the window for a long while, staring at the nature surrounding his house and dreaming about what the future would bring. A knock at his door burst his daydream, forcing him back to his unwanted reality.

"America?" He heard the voice of one of his few female states, Virginia, as she opened the door and stepped inside. He turned to greet her, his words dying on his lips the moment his eyes landed on the baby in her arms. He stood and walked over to her, not really hearing anything she was nervously telling him about a letter left behind in the living room.

Dark blond, almost light brown hair. Violet eyes.

America gently took the baby from Virginia's arms and her words ceased as she watched him. A jolt ran through him as he gently caressed the babe's cheek, marveling at the softness of his skin. His immediate thought was of a territory to the north, just above Ohio and Indiana, and nestled between three of the Great Lakes. "Michigan," he said at long last. "This is Michigan."

The newly named Michigan gurgled and blinked sleepily before settling down, bringing a smile to America's face. As much as he wanted to be angry at England for daring to take the baby away from Matilda, he felt nothing but peaceful as he gently cradled his son and future state.

* * *

><p>End chapter<p>

* * *

><p>Just one more to go!<p> 


	6. 1982 Reunion

**You'll Always Be Mine**

_1867 - Confederation_

"Papa?"

America tiredly looked up from his paperwork regarding the re-admission of his rebellious southern children to the Union, thankful for any sort of break that came his way. He smiled when he saw one of his most quiet children - one who gave him so few problems that at times he had trouble remembering he existed.

The young teen nervously twisted a lock of his curly, golden brown hair around one finger, his light violet eyes unsure. "I-if now's not a good time, I'll come back later."

"Now's perfect!" America said, gesturing for him to walk inside. "I was just getting ready to take a break, so your timing is great! What's up, Michi?"

Michigan walked inside with a docile wolverine trotting at his heels, a large envelope clutched in his hands. "I-I brought something for you. It's a letter from Ontario."

_Ontario?_ America blinked at the mention of Michigan's older brother. How long had it been since he last heard anything from any of the northern colonies? He could remember a joint-letter between Ontario and Quebec, but it had been a year since then. (And it wasn't so much a letter from them as it was them stealing the paper and arguing with each other before Nova Scotia stepped in and began ranting about how much England sucked. That, at least, had cheered America up greatly, for he had been in a place of believing his beloved states would be forever fighting him, even though the Civil War was over.)

He accepted the letter from Michigan, eagerly ripping it open and unfolding the papers within. On top was what appeared to be a copy of a news article, except it was dated _July 1, 1867_, which was still a few days away. If the name Scotty Williams was any indication, it was written by non-other than Nova Scotia. His eyes caught the words _confederation, Canada, provinces_, and he stood up to pace as he read.

Michigan's eyes wearily followed him as the young state leaned against the wall. His wolverine began to gnaw on his shoelaces. "What do you think it's about, Mackintosh?" He asked quietly.

The animal (whose real named was Mackinac) blinked it's beady little eyes, looking up at his companion. "Who are you?"

"I'm Michigan…"

"Oh," sniffed Mackinac. "I'm hungry."

Michigan sighed. "We'll get food later, Mackinberry."

America soon finished the article and handed it over to Michigan, flipping over to Ontario's letter. Even as he began to read about how happy his older son was to "not be practically married to that damn Quebec anymore", a frown stayed on his face. Michigan on the other hand, began to smile more and more with every word he read, his eyes shining with pure happiness. He looked excitedly to his dad, ready to ask when they'd be able to visit Canada, and faltered when he saw that America wasn't anywhere near as happy as he was.

"D-dad, what's wrong? This… this is good news, r-right? We can go see maman?" Michigan asked timidly.

"No."

"N-no?"

"No," America repeated firmly. He didn't give an explanation.

"But why? Why can't we! This means she's not England's colony anymore, right? You're allowed to be together again!" Michigan protested, raising his voice for once.

America clutched the letter in his hands, looking away from the state. "She's still under England's rule. Whatever England decides, she has to go along with. I told her I would wait for the day she wins her independence. This… This isn't the time. Not yet."

"But—"

"No means no, Michigan!"

The teen shrank back, startled. Tears began to fill his eyes and he hurriedly wiped them away with a sniffle. His papa had never yelled at him before.

America caught ear of the sound and his shoulders slumped. He slowly walked over to his son and put a hand on his shoulder, making sure to soften his voice before speaking again. "I'm sorry, Michi. I shouldn't have yelled at you. It's just… I'm so close to seeing her again, but I still can't. I've never wanted to break a promise so badly…"

Michigan pushed aside the hand and went in for a hug instead, still sniffling. He buried his face into America's chest to hide his tears. "I just want to meet her… just once. Her and big brother. I've never met either of them. Just Nova Scotia and that's only because he delivers the letters. I've been waiting years for any sort of news about their independence and this is the first official news I've gotten! But even now I can't see them…"

Holding back tears himself, America hugged his son tightly. "We'll just have to be patient. We'll be able to see them soon. I'm sure of it."

"Promise?" Michigan asked.

"Hero's promise," America whispered back as a solitary tear slipped down his cheek.

* * *

><p>1917<p>

America hadn't wanted to do it. He hadn't wanted to get involved. He'd made a promise to George Washington all those years ago; a promise to stay out of the affairs and wars of Europe. But his people began to press for action and he finally broke that promise, letting loose a spirit of heroism he'd kept locked away for some time.

He would be a hero. He would help his European allies and ensure justice would prevail.

And if he saw Canada in the process, then so be it.

* * *

><p>He avoided it. Somehow. In all his time spent in Europe fighting, the only countries he came into contact with were England and Russia. He wondered if England had sent Canada back home to her own land where she would be safe from harm. If the great empire had truly done that, then he was thankful.<p>

America flopped down in a chair at the airport, wanting nothing more than to get home quickly and see if he could talk Virginia or Louisiana into making him a good home cooked meal. (Though after he thought about it, eating Louisiana's more extreme food made his stomach turn a little. It may be best to just ask the most northern of his southern states.)

Low murmurs regarding a group of approaching American soldiers took America off-guard. He stood up, willing to offer his seat so more of them could sit down, but soon wished he hadn't when he saw exactly who they were and a wave of dizziness washed over him.

Several of his states, looking rather worn-down and beaten, with scratches and bruises on their faces, some covered with bandages, slowly made their way toward him. Massachusetts was sporting a slight limp and had one arm in a sling. Connecticut looked to be the best of of them all, though his eyebrows and bangs appeared a little singed. Kansas was leaning on New Hampshire for better stability as he walked stiffly, a cane in one hand. New Hampshire looked exhausted and had his neck wrapped in bandages which extended far under his shirt. Michigan was the final member of the party, his violet eyes deadened as he too leaned on a cane for support, one arm in a sling.

They stopped in front of America, unnaturally quiet.

America looked at them for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he smiled sadly and patted Connecticut on the shoulder, hoping the teen was as unhurt as he looked.

"Let's go home, kids."

* * *

><p>1944<p>

Another war. Another damn war.

And Canada had been drawn into it again. Albeit, she'd stubbornly waited a while just to prove she could make her own choices, but she'd still joined. The worst part was, thanks to letters from Massachusetts and Connecticut, America had proof that she was actually fighting over in Europe.

America crumpled the most recent of the letters in his hand, standing up so suddenly that he knocked back his chair. Ohio, who had dropped by for a visit and to hand over his report on his state's economy, looked over in surprise.

"We're leaving," America announced bluntly. "Get your gear together, Ohio. We're going to Europe once I talk to Boss."

Ohio nodded, knowing better than to argue with his parental figure. Besides that, after the bombing of Pearl Harbor, he and all of the other states knew it was only a matter of time before America threw himself into the war and had sworn to do whatever they could to assist him whether it was on the home front or the battlefront.

* * *

><p>He couldn't avoid her that time.<p>

England was there, carefully watching them to see how they would react to seeing each other after so many years, but Canada kept her head down and America refused to acknowledge her. France and China watched them wearily, unsure of what to make of it. Russia, representing the whole of the Soviet Union, happily served as a buffer, taunting America into fights and having awkwardly quiet conversations with the young Canadian (mostly about Ukraine, who had become friends with Canada sometime after 1867).

"Canada is so cute," Russia said in her strong accent, pulling the younger blonde against her chest and squeezing gently. Her icy violet eyes met America's challengingly, a smirk playing on her lips.

America gritted his teeth together, refusing to take the bait. Instead he turned his attention to England, purposely striking up a conversation about all of the money she owed him, mostly just to start an argument with her and distract himself from the fact that his beautiful Matilda was _right there_ in front of him and there was absolutely nothing he could do.

Canada's eyes glistened with hurt, something only Russia took note of.

* * *

><p>1982<p>

Matilda awoke on a morning in December feeling different from usual. Giddiness swelled within her, a pride she couldn't describe filling her being. Her house was bursting with sound. Her polar bear companion, Kumajiro, was waking up at the foot of the bed. She felt so _alive._

_Canada,_ she thought. _That's who I am. I'm Canada._

Her bedroom door flew open and in pranced France with a bottle of wine and several glasses. England followed shortly behind him, looking none too pleased with his flamboyant behaviour but not about to start complaining on such a happy occasion.

"How does it feel?" France asked after sitting down and affectionately kissing the top of her head. "Your independence?" He began pouring the wine, handing on to her and another to England once the woman also took a spot on the bed. The last he kept for himself.

Canada found herself smiling broadly, unable to find the words to describe how she felt.

France chuckled and took a sip of wine while England leaned forward and kissed her ex-colony on the cheek, whispering how proud she was.

Surrounded by the warmth of her parents, enjoying the taste of sweet red wine, Canada wondered if she could possibly be happier. It was around that time that her provinces and territories, all twelve of them, tried to cram in the doorway, shouting their congratulations and trying to elbow each other out of the way.

Quebec and Ontario broke away first, joining the three nations on the bed. Canada laughed, France bemoaned the spilling of his favourite drink, and England rolled her eyes as all of the others quickly followed, and Canada was buried beneath a pile of wriggling limbs and complaints about someone's elbow in someone else's gut or a knee in a rather sensitive area.

England and France slipped off of the bed, exchanging amused glances that they would each later deny.

* * *

><p>After celebrating all day with her parents, her provinces and territories, and the few of her nation friends who came by the congratulate her, Canada honestly wanted nothing more than to trudge upstairs and flop onto her bed and sleep for a good twelve hours. Like always, however, the Fates weren't going to let her have it her way and had to toss in a roadblock.<p>

Admittedly, it was one she didn't mind at all.

When the doorbell rang she honestly thought it was Prussia having broken free of Russia's grasp to come running back and asking for a place to hide out for the night. It was all the ex-nation had talked about whenever he was near her that evening and after all of her other experiences with him, she wouldn't put it past him. (Part of her wondered if it was all part of some strange game the two were playing. There was no way she was going to ask, of course. There were some [many] things she didn't want to know about her friends.)

What she got instead was much more pleasant.

A hug.

A hug and the smell of leather. Strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her against solid muscle. A quiet laugh of pure and utter delight. A kiss pressed to her forehead, quickly followed by another and then another.

"Al," she whispered, closing her eyes and hugging him back.

"Congrats, sis," Alfred said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. "I-I waited. Just like I promised."

Matilda smiled and opened her eyes. "I know. Thank you."

Alfred pulled away, awkwardly holding onto her hands, unsure of what to do. It was like they were colonies again, just starting to figure things out between them. Matilda threaded their fingers together.

"U-um, papa? Can I take off my blindfold yet?"

"Who are you?" Asked a tiny voice.

"I'm Michigan, Mackinfruit!"

"Oh."

Alfred chuckled, twisting to the side so Matilda could see past him to where a golden-brown haired teen was standing awkwardly at the bottom of the porch with a blindfold on, a small brown wolverine standing at his feet. A short, looping curl stuck out from the rest of his hair on the left side of his head.

Matilda gasped softly. "I-is that…?"

America nodded, releasing her hands so she could cautiously walk over to the state. She stared at him for a long moment before reaching up with shaky hands to remove the cloth blocking her eyes. Brilliant amethyst eyes blinked against the brightness of the sun before focusing fully on her.

"Maman…?" Michigan whispered in disbelief.

Matilda enveloped him in a hug without another word. She wasn't sure which of them began crying first, it may have been her or Michigan or maybe even America, who didn't take long to join them, hugging Matilda from behind. Quebec would later tell her that he'd seen it all from the window and that it was America who started crying first, but since he changed his story each time she figured it was safe to assume his account couldn't be trusted.

And when Ontario returned from dropping off British Columbia, Manitoba, Alberta, and Saskatchewan at the airport, he was drawn right into the family reunion, delighted to finally meet his younger brother.

For once the original three provinces refrained from their usual teasing as they watched them rejoice, too happy that everything had worked out for their sister to even try. They gave them some space, Nova Scotia throwing his arms over the shoulders of Quebec and New Brunswick as he steered them out of the house and in the direction of the nearest bar.

* * *

><p>End<p>

* * *

><p>Okay, I lied, there's going to be one more chapter. Though it'll be more like an epilogue.<p>

And something that popped into my mind as I was typing the last paragraph: Quebec, New Brunswick, and Nova Scotia = the Canadian Bad Touch Trio. Yes? (Quebec would be the France of the group, Nova Scotia the Prussia, and New Brunswick the Spain.)

I realize I left out some huge chunks of history (the Great Depression, most of the two World Wars, the Cold War, Canada's acquisition of more territory, Canada making some interesting friends thanks to Trudeau), but if I'd included them then this would keep going on forever and I honestly don't have the time to write about it right now.

I wish I could've shown Michigan being a little stronger and less like a crybaby. I imagine he was pretty badass when he fought in the First World War and that's why he was so banged up.

Had I included smut in this chapter like I originally planned, this would've been the last chapter. But I felt it sort of demeaned their reunion, so I took it out. But hey, now you all get another chapter.


	7. Epilogue

**You'll Always Be Mine**

Epilogue

America laughed as he waved goodbye to Germany and Italy, one arm wrapped firmly around Canada's shoulders. Italy happily continued talking about pasta to her taller companion, pausing only briefly to shout her goodbyes to the sibling pair. Germany inclined her head towards them before ushering Italy down the hall towards their room, most likely wanting to get in a secure place before her older brother came parading down the hallway in search of her. (Or more specifically, in search of a room to sleep in because he'd, once again, disobeyed her and decided to crash the meeting instead of staying home.)

"I hope I can remember that recipe," Canada murmured. "Maybe I should write it down once we get to our room."

"Nah, I'm sure if you call Italy later she'll be happy to give it to you," America said, sliding the key card for their room out of his pocket. His blue eyes were twinkling with happy mischief. Never a good sign for poor Canada. "Besides, you might be a little too busy to write down anything."

Canada looked up at him in confusion, about to ask what he meant by that when he pushed her into the room, swiftly following and shutting the door with a snap. She watched as he slid the chain into place and then turned to face her.

Canada gulped at the look in her brother's eyes, taking a step back. "A-America?"

America stepped towards her. "You have no damn idea how sexy you were today, do you? Standing up there in front of everyone, giving your presentation on sustainable energy, commanding everyone's attention with your words. Even _I_ paid attention for once."

Canada crossed her arms over her chest. "The only thing you were paying attention to was how good I look in this stupid skirt. I _told_ papa it was a bad idea. Do you know how many times I had to hide from Prussia this morning? How many times I had to tell Russia that I wasn't interested in becoming one with her? _Japan_ complimented me. Do you have any idea how weird that is? And don't get me started on England's reaction!"

"Mattie, this is weird for me to say to you, but shut up," America requested, taking another step towards her. "Talking about the crazy old bat is a total mood killer."

Matilda giggled, realizing what he was trying to do. "You suck at seducing people, Al."

Alfred pouted and any sexiness he had pretty much vanished. "Yeah, well, you weren't helping at all! And anyway, it's not like you could do it any better!"

The Canadian raised an eyebrow. "Want to bet, brother? Close your eyes and don't open them until I tell you to. Oh, and take off your shirt."

"Take off my shirt?" Alfred repeated in confusion. "But what's that got to do with seducing me?"

"Maybe something, maybe I just want to see you without a shirt on," Matilda replied cheekily. "Take it off and you'll find out."

Alfred shrugged and tugged his tie loose so he could slip it off. His shirt was next, each button slowly undone until it slipped off of his body and fell to the floor. "Okay, now what?"

"Close your eyes," Matilda reminded him. "And keep them closed or else."

"Yeah, yeah. This is completely unsexy, by the way."

Matilda ignored him, making sure he had his eyes closed before bending down to pick up his discarded shirt. She grinned and merrily made her way towards the bed, pulling off her jacket and tossing it aside along the way. Her own shirt and tie quickly joined it on the floor, followed by her skirt, shoes, and socks. She happily pulled on her brother's shirt, giggling at how big it was on her, but didn't button it up. She bypassed the bed to go to her suitcase, opening it up and taking out her small jewellery box. Her maple leaf hair pins were removed from her hair, followed by the ribbons she used to hold her hair in pigtails. She didn't stop at that. She reached back into the box and removed two new pins, ones with a trio of stars in red, white, and blue. Using her small mirror, she slid them in place.

"Can I open my eyes yet?" Alfred asked.

"Not yet," Matilda replied, shoving the box back into her suitcase. She glanced over at her brother, happy to see he wasn't peaking. With a giggle, she crawled up onto the bed, trying a few different positions before settling on one she liked. She took her time arranging the shirt and her hair before clearing her throat. She hoped her voice would come out as lustfully as she needed it to.

"A-Alfred," she simpered, nearly kicking herself for how insecure she sounded. She decided to try again, drawing a little more on her French side. "Alfred, please look at me." _Bingo._

Alfred cautiously opened his eyes, wondering what his beloved sister was planning. He sucked in a breath when she saw her laying stretched out across the bed, her pale, unblemished legs unclothed, his too-big shirt covering her arms with material but pushed away to leave most of her torso and one thigh uncovered, and—_Oh God, _she was wearing his colors. Stars and stripes decorated her bra and panties. He managed to turn his eyes to her face, barely noticing her new hair pins before finding himself entranced by the emotion in her big amethyst eyes.

Matilda coyly shifted, letting his shirt slip down one shoulder. "Al, won't you come over here?"

He didn't need to be told twice. He relieved himself of his pants (they were becoming much too tight for his liking) and practically ran over to the bed to join Matilda. "You were right," he admitted as she rolled onto her back and he crawled over her. "You are much better at seduction than me. So, pick your prize. I'll do whatever you want."

"Whatever I want, eh?" Matilda asked, trailing her fingers up and down his chest. "How about, just this once, you do what you want. Don't ask me if everything's alright when you know that it is. Just…"

Alfred took advantage of her pause by lowering his body and pressing his lips to hers. They moved against one another in a slow dance, not wanting to rush things, not wanting to miss another moment after being apart for nearly one-hundred-fifty years. They had both made a vow to cherish every moment, no matter how big or small.

Hands trailed over skin, causing trills of pleasure to spike through each of them. When and how they divested of what little clothing they were still wearing didn't matter. What mattered what strengthening their bond. What mattered was the kisses, the feel of him entering her, their silent reassurances through gentle touches, the occasional strong grip, or a playful nip of teeth meant only to stimulate and not to hurt.

Slow thrusts became fast ones. Matilda's gasps of pleasure ringing in his ears. Her fingernails digging into the skin on his back as they both began to come undone. The warmth around his cock tightened, sending him further over the edge as that ever-so-familiar spike of heated pleasure coiled tighter and then snapped.

Alfred heard Matilda's whimpered shout as he came, shooting his seed inside of her while her walls clenched tightly around him. After a minute or so, Alfred pulled out of her and groped around for his shirt, which he used to clean them off.

Matilda smiled and snuggled up against him once he tossed the shirt to the side and pulled the blankets around them. "I think I should seduce you more often," she murmured tiredly.

"Maybe you can be a stripper the next time we roleplay," Alfred suggested, chuckling when she weakly hit him. "You'd be a damn sexy stripper. I can get a pole installed in my bedroom too."

"I have a better idea," Matilda said. "How about you be the stripper instead. Dance the pole for me in a…a… I dunno, a Mountie costume or something."

Alfred chuckled again. "A Mountie? You're so Canadian, sis. How about I be an awesome sexy fireman instead?"

Matilda snorted in amusement. "You're so American, Al."

"Better yet, a cowboy!" Alfred said, already planning things out in his mind. "I think I have all of my stuff… I wonder how much of it still fits…"

"Al, plan later, cuddle now," Matilda requested. "We still have another meeting in the morning, remember?"

Alfred groaned at the reminder, wanting nothing more than to finish with the G8 meetings and go back home. Things were so much better when they didn't have to tiptoe around their fellow Nations, hiding the fact that they were together from them. Though hopefully they wouldn't have to do so for much longer.

"Hey, Mattie, I have a question."

Matilda closed her eyes, sleepily murmuring "Hmmm…?"

"Are we gonna tell everyone about the baby tomorrow?"

Matilda's eyes snapped back open in a panic. "T-tomorrow's the last day! Why didn't you remind me?" She sat up, intending to get up to grab her notes and review exactly how she wanted to break the news. She was foiled by Al, who pulled her back down onto the bed. "Al! Let go!"

"Nope," Alfred replied, firmly wrapping his arms around her. "You can do that in the morning. Right now we're going to sleep so you won't complain all day tomorrow about not getting enough. Relax, Matilda. Everything will be fine. Who knows, England might even accept it this time."

"Al, she won't even look at Michigan or Ontario."

Alfred laughed. "Well on the bright side, we won't have to hear her bitching at family get-tog ether's for a few years until she calms down. And hey, France will get to fawn over this one. Remember how disappointed he was to find out he only has 'grandsons'?" When Matilda continued to frown, he planted a brief kiss on her lips. "Don't worry. Things will work out in the end. And I promise I won't bug you in the morning if you want to go over your notes."

Matilda finally gave in. "Okay…"

There was silence as they began to drift off to sleep. After a few minutes it was broken by Alfred.

"Hey, Mattie?"

She yawned. "Hmmm?"

"I love you."

Matilda smiled, half asleep. "_Je t'aime_, Alfred."

* * *

><p><strong>The End<strong>

* * *

><p>Or is it? I dunno. I'm half tempted to write a bonus chapter revolving around Quebec, Nova Scotia, and New Brunswick.<p>

I imagine this chapter takes place sometime in autumn 1998. Russia had joined the others to form the G8 the year before and Canada had yet to gain her third and final territory (Nunavut, which became an official territory in 1999 after splitting away from Northwest Territories).

In other news, I have entered the week of final exams! Huzzah! This means the semester is practically over and I'll have a nice long break to write as much as I want without having to worry about homework/tests/projects/anything related to school. I have so much writing to catch up on.


End file.
